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<title>Rome took all the vanity out of me by middlemarch</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304676">Rome took all the vanity out of me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch'>middlemarch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance, Sisters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:22:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd served them tea first at least, slices of lemon floating in the Limoges china like stained glass.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amy March &amp; Josephine March, Amy March/Fred Vaughn, John Brooke/Margaret March, Theodore Laurence/Amy March</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rome took all the vanity out of me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Amy, Fred Vaughn won’t give a toss about any of this,” Jo said. She was watching her younger sister, perfectly coiffed, perfectly dressed in a curious shade of blue silk that read as twilight when it was only worms-work and dye, scurry about like a squirrel busily preparing for a winter without acorns. Meg, tatting a lace collar, nodded and her lip twisted in the way that meant she was stretching the stew with turnips John would never complain about. Amy would send them each home with an elaborate dessert satisfying no-one.</p><p>“This isn’t for Fred, it’s for his wife!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from Louisa May Alcott.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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